


These Things Take Forever

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, The Defenders (Comic), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Defenders, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: It's been months. Foggy gets a call.





	These Things Take Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this is so rushed and probably has typos galore and I know for a fact it has no plot, but I just watched all of The Defenders and my hands are still shaking and, believe it or not, I'm still crying! So I needed to make myself feel better. Sorry this is so lame! I hope it brings you at least a little consolation.
> 
> Title taken from ["First Day of My Life"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztGPYPArAyE) by Bright Eyes.

Foggy spent a lot of time alone these days.

His apartment felt shadowy, like there was someone there who wasn’t, not really. Corners had echoes that didn’t exist. Every step felt heavy. The air felt thick. He felt lonely. He still kept Matt’s things in the corner, untouched, gathered up like a horrible little shrine to him.

He threw his jacket and blazer over the back of a chair and fell onto his sofa, scrubbing at his face. The sun had long since set, but he didn’t notice things like that so much anymore. Since that moment - a moment he couldn’t seem to shake from his mind, a moment that replayed over and over in his waking eyes and in his sleep - when he lost Matt, when Matt didn’t walk through that door, nothing really seemed right. Karen had nailed it on the head: it didn’t seem real. Everything felt fake without Matt, like a set without any of the right actors, and Foggy didn’t have a script. It felt fucked up.

Foggy glanced at the fridge, realized he hadn’t eaten that day. Glanced away. He had a bottle of water somewhere but didn’t have the energy to find it and drink any of it. Instead, he sat, in the dark, staring at the wall, his knees bent uncomfortably but lacking the strength to move them. His head ached. His hands shook. He tipped his head to stare out the window and felt, simultaneously, exhausted and like he would never sleep again. Same as any night. Same as every night.

His phone rang.

He wondered what Matt would have done, in some alternate universe where there actually was a God and Foggy was the one who died instead.

His phone rang again.

Foggy kept staring out the window. A bug smacked into it, but Foggy didn’t flinch. The noise felt far away.

His phone rang again.

Foggy turned, squinted in his dark apartment. He wondered, absently, when it had gotten so dark, before he finally heaved himself to his feet and fished his cell out of his pocket. The number was unfamiliar, but he answered it anyways.

“Hello?” he asked, rubbing at his face.

“Is this Foggy?” a woman’s voice said. She sounded older. Gentle, but maybe kind of intense. Foggy leaned against the arm of his sofa. She called him _Foggy._ Just Foggy. Weird.

“It is,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“You were in his phone as his emergency contact,” she said, and Foggy’s palms suddenly felt sweaty. His arms felt numb.

“Who?” he asked. He felt like his vision was black, fuzzy. That didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know that many people.

“Matthew,” she said. Foggy pressed the heel of his free hand into his eyes.

“Did you find his phone?” Foggy asked, willing his voice not to crack. “Where’d he leave it?”

“It was in his suit,” she said, “in a pocket. It wouldn’t make any calls, though, I’m afraid.”

“What,” Foggy demanded, “are you talking about?”

“I didn’t know who else to call,” the woman said. “There’s not very many people in his phone, and you were listed as his emergency number.”

“Why are you calling?” He turned back to the window. He could see the smudge where the bug had hit the glass. He wished for a script.

“I have Matt,” she said, and Foggy dropped his phone in the same moment he hit the floor, curling up on his knees, pressing his hands to his face as he took shuddering gasps of air. He could hear the woman’s voice on the phone, somewhere, and he grappled for it, shoving it back against his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, hi, yeah, you have Matt? You said you _have Matt?”_ Foggy asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, we- Well, he was dragged in here. I- Well. I recognized him. We’ve been nursing him back to health-”

 _“Nursing him back to health?”_ Foggy asked, incredulously. “You realized we thought he was dead.”

“Well-”

“Well _nothing,”_ Foggy said. “Just- Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Matt.”

“Do you want to come pick him up?” she asked. Like it was _nothing._ Like dead people came back every day, like Foggy always got calls from strange women telling him that his actual reason for living was still out there, not dead, waiting for him to come _pick him up._

“Yes,” Foggy said. “Hell yes. I’ll come pick him up. Where?”

She gave him an address and said she was looking forward to meeting him and hung up. Foggy scribbled the address down on his notepaper and stared at it for a long time, his pen and phone slipping out of his hands once the call disconnected. He took a deep breath, the paper pressed to his forehead, and tried his best to center himself before he stood again. He forgot everything - his phone, his jacket, his bag, everything but the address and his wallet, remembered in his haste when he realized he’d need a cab. He left a hastily-scribbled note saying he’d be back soon in case anyone stopped by, but it was barely legible. He left anyways.

It turned out the address wasn’t even that far away, and Foggy could feel his nose prickling, the backs of his eyes hot as he kept pressing his hands to them to try to stop himself from crying. Matt had been barely ten minutes away for two months and Foggy hadn’t done _shit._ He gave almost exact change to the cab driver and said he’d be right back if he didn’t mind waiting. The cab drove away. Foggy didn’t even notice.

The place was a church. Of fucking course, Matt ended up at some church after he died. Or whatever he did. Crawled out of a hole. Beat impossible odds. _Fuck-_

“Hello?” Foggy called, the second he stepped into the little church. His voice echoed, and it irrationally pissed him off. A side door opened and an elderly woman looked out.

“Are you Foggy?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. She smiled.

“Won’t you come with me,” she said, vanishing back through the door, and Foggy jogged to catch up with her. The church had been dark, hollow and high, but the hall was white and artificially lit. She led him down, past any number of doors, until Foggy was twitchy and ready to cry again and they had reached the end. She turned back, smiled, touched his hand.

“My name is Maggie,” she said, and pushed the door open. “If I can do anything, you let me know.”

“Okay,” he said, brushing past her. The room was filled with beds, like an orphanage in an old movie. A couple of nuns were hanging around one, where a man was sitting up.

A man. Not any man.

Matt.

“Matt,” Foggy breathed, and Matt’s head snapped up. He didn’t have his glasses, or any clothes on that Foggy recognized, but he was moving, breathing, living. _Alive._

“Foggy,” Matt replied, and he stood, and Foggy crashed into him, burying his face in Matt’s neck and holding him tighter than he thought his muscles could manage.

“I thought you were dead,” Foggy said. “I _knew_ you were dead. I couldn’t- I haven’t- What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “I woke up here.” He pulled back. “I’m so sorry, Foggy. I’m so sorry. I’m so-”

“Why didn’t you call?” Foggy asked. Matt shook his head and pulled Foggy back in.

“I couldn’t,” Matt said. “They said I couldn’t until I was ready to leave.”

Foggy frowned. “Oh, I am going to-”

“Foggy,” Matt said, soft, and Foggy thought he’d never hear that voice again, see that face, hold him like this. He held him tighter to prove to himself he was.

“I missed you,” Foggy said, and his voice broke. His face felt hot, wet. So did Matt’s.

“Can we go home?” Matt asked quietly. Foggy nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “of course.” He turned. “Can we just go?”

“Yes,” Maggie told them. Matt seemed to glance at her, then away. He thanked one of the women near him and led Foggy to the hall.

“Who was she?” Foggy asked, by the time they made it to the church, Matt’s hand still clasped tightly in his.

“My mother,” Matt said. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow,” Foggy tried to joke. Matt squeezed his shaking hand. Foggy flagged down a taxi.

“How did you know it wasn’t a trap?” Matt asked, once they were in the cab and Foggy had given the address for Matt’s loft.

“I didn’t,” Foggy told him honestly. “But it was you. I had to go.”

Matt reached out and squeezed his hand again after a moment of hesitation. “Why are we going to my building?”

“Oh,” Foggy said. “Uhh. Well, Karen kept saying she thought there was a chance you’d lived. I tried to help her move on, but I- Well. I couldn’t.”

“You should have,” Matt said quietly.

“I never would have, Matt,” Foggy told him. “You know that. It’s you.”

Matt doubled over, pressing his forehead to the back of Foggy’s hand, still wrapped around his. He took a deep breath. Foggy could see scars where his shirt was unbuttoned, at the top, and scars on his face. He ducked down and kissed the back of Matt’s head, Matt’s ear, his forehead when he looked up.

“I left a note,” he said. “At my place. So they’d know if I died or something stupid.”

“How is everyone else?” Matt asked. “Karen? Claire?”

“Oh, great, we all had a great time after you crushed yourself with a building in a dragon cave,” Foggy said. Matt smiled, and Foggy was hit all at once with the magnitude of what he had lost and regained. He ducked his own head down, and Matt’s hand was on his face, sudden, pulling him back to look at him.

“I’m here,” Matt said.

“Me, too,” Foggy said.

“They’re going to be happy to see you,” Foggy told him, after a long moment. “Everyone, I mean. They took losing you hard. All of them. Karen- Well. Karen’s Karen. She’s a trooper. Doing better than I was, anyways. And she’s got whatever Frank is to help. Jessica’s been hanging around a little bit, but she just reopened Alias and her and Trish and Malcolm have been busy. Luke stops by now and then. Usually with Claire. I helped them out and now they bring me casseroles and shit so I’ll eat.” They pulled up outside Matt’s building and helped each other out. “Danny’s had a hard time, too. Him and Colleen’ll call, but I only see him every so often.” Foggy led Matt up to his landing and through his door with his key.

“I’ve missed you,” Foggy said.

“I’ve missed you most of all, Scarecrow,” Matt said, with an attempt of a smile. Matt knew Foggy was alive. Foggy thought Matt was dead. It was easier for Matt to smile.

“Hey, I’ve got my heart back,” Foggy replied. Matt reached out and pulled him in, the two of them in Matt’s doorway, hanging on to each other like they were life vests in open water. “I’ve got you back.”

“Yeah,” Matt said. He buried his face in Foggy’s neck and exhaled wetly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’ve said that before.” Foggy stepped back and continued to lead Matt into his apartment. He insisted on Matt hitting the sofa and then covering him with a quilt. Matt covered them both when Foggy sat beside him. “There’s no food here. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said. “Have you been eating?”

“Um,” Foggy said. He reached out and pulled Matt’s head in towards his. “I’ve missed you. I didn’t- I don’t know how to be without you.”

“Foggy,” Matt said, and started to say more, before his head lifted. He frowned. “Did you call anyone else?”

“No,” Foggy said. “I forgot my phone. Hey, hound dog, sit _down._ Is someone here?”

“A few people,” Matt said. Foggy pushed him back with a palm flat against his chest.

“I’ll check it,” he said. “But whoever it is doesn’t change the fact that we need to talk.”

“Tomorrow,” Matt said. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I just want to… Today, can we just…”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, and he opened the door to see Karen standing on the other side, her face red and tear-stained. She had Foggy’s note crumpled in her hand.

“You can’t keep coming back here, Foggy,” she said, and her voice cracked. “I thought something had happened to you. I called Trish, and she said-”

“You called Trish?” Foggy said. “I just- Wait. Is someone-”

“What’s going on?” Matt called, and Karen’s whole expression twisted into an emotion Foggy had no name for but had certainly felt in the past two hours.

“Is that-” she said, and Foggy grabbed her hand.

“Please,” he said. “I just- He just-”

“I thought you got taken or something,” she whispered. “I’ve been looking everywhere. I called everyone.”

“You called _everyone?”_ Foggy asked, and Karen shoved past him into the apartment, freezing in her tracks when she saw Matt on the sofa. Her hand flew to her mouth and she sobbed, once.

“How long-”

“Just today,” Matt hurried to say. “I just- Today.”

“What happened?” she asked. Foggy helped her to the sofa and went to shut the door while Matt talked, but Jessica was staring back at him. In fact, more than Jessica.

“Karen called Trish,” she said. “Trish called me.”

“I was there,” Malcolm said. “I wanted to help.”

“Jess called me,” Luke said, and Claire pointed at Luke.

“He called me,” she told him, and Misty said, “Me, too.”

“Claire called us,” Danny said, motioning between himself and Colleen. “But it looks like you didn’t get killed.”

“Oh, my God,” Foggy said. Overwhelming. This day was the definition of overwhelming. “Come in.”

“Come in? You’re fine,” Jessica insisted. Foggy turned and walked back in anyways, reclaiming his spot beside Matt. Matt tucked the quilt around his legs again. Foggy, once back with Matt, found he couldn’t stop looking at Matt. _Alive._ Jesus Christ.

“Jesus Christ,” Jessica said from the entryway, like she had read Foggy’s goddamn mind. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“It’s a long story,” Matt said. “It’s a long fucking story.”

“We’ve got time,” Claire said, already at his side, touching his head, tilting him back to look at him. Foggy reached out and took his hand. Matt squeezed.

“I’ll get dinner,” Danny commented, already pulling out his phone. Matt’s furniture was loaded in moments, the floor occupied for extra seating. Matt told his story again and Danny brought delivery back in, filling up Matt’s coffee table with Chinese from the closest takeout.

“We thought you were dead,” Luke said, once Matt had finished, again.

“Me, too,” Matt said.

“You can _never,”_ Foggy said, “do that again. _Ever._ It’s on the list. Rule list. I’m starting one, and that’s at the top, and that- We are going to _talk_ about that.”

“Of course,” Matt said. “But, tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Foggy said. The moon seemed to shine bright, the lights all turned on in Matt’s apartment, the neon lights shining against their faces. They all looked happier than they had since Midland Circle, smiling, eating, all together again. Foggy glanced at Matt, felt for his pulse in his wrist. His beating heart, his breathing chest. Foggy leaned in, squeezed his hand again, and Matt turned and smiled.

Foggy was never going to spend a day alone again. Not if he could help it. Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> God help me. God help us all.
> 
> I have written, like, zero fanfiction lately because I actually wrote a book instead. It was a long road but I actually did it! It's about two young ladies who hunt aliens and fall in love. If you want to read it, shoot me a message!
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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